Aneth Ara
by Red - Eyed - Raven 93
Summary: Torn away from the safety of her clan, Ziah believes that her survival in the dangerous world of shemlen will be up to her. But when her troubled past and present overwhelm her, who will be there to keep the lone Dalish safe? F!MaharielxAlistair.


**Aneth Ara**

**Prologue:**

_Emmahalam_

_(My End)_

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><p><em>emma ir abelas<em>  
><em>souver'inan isala hamin<em>  
><em>vhenan him dor'felas<em>

_-from "In Uthenera"_

* * *

><p><em><span>Plea<span>  
><em>

_"It is for the best, da'len," _

The Keeper's voice echoed in my mind as I tried to gather my most precious things: a bundle of elfroot and flasks (can be useful in Herbalism), health poultices (duh), a quiver full of nice flying, elven arrows (Master Ilen's gift for me when I got my vallasin, very serviceable but I didn't want to use it often), a halla horn (from Maren, though I didn't really know what to do with it), my longbow (the one I asked from Master Ilen), my mother's locket (How could Ashalle neglect to tell me this?), my mother's Dar'Misu (though I wasn't very good at using such things), and the Dar'Misaan that my best friend, Ta-

I suddenly stopped packing up and tears started to sting my eyes. _Tamlen, Tamlen, Tamlen_-his voice, his scream was still ringing in my ears. Though I didn't want to, but memories flashed before my eyes and I couldn't stop it. I could remember every detail, the huge roots, the ruins, the elvish artifacts, and the source of all these trouble…the eluvian.

_"Ziah, help me, I can't look away!"_

_"Tamlen, what's wrong? Who or what did you see?"_

I tried to rescue him from his curiosity—and yet my strength wasn't enough. Hahren Paivel told me that I was lucky that my youth was forgiven: that I could still learn from this mistake; but Tamlen paid the price. But I felt that Tamlen was more fortunate than I—at least wherever he was, he couldn't experience the humiliation to be given away to the shemlen like some sick animal.

My fingers instinctively gripped the blade tighter as my memories travelled a little farther back to the past. The Dar'Misaan that he had given me seemed to fuel my longing for him. I closed my eyes and tried to remember his smile and all those memories that were entwined with him.

"_Congratulations for getting your vallaslin, Ziah,"_Tamlen grinned as he playfully traced the newly-carved, black curves on my cheek using his finger.

I lightly shoved the finger away from my face._ "It's still pretty fresh, Tamlen,"_ I scowled,_ "Don't just play around it."_

_"Ha," _he smirked, _"I barely contained my laugh while I watched the ritual. Your face looks like you're ready to scream in pain. If the Keeper just saw any sign of you crying, it'll take you another few moons before you can try again, __**da'len**__."_

I frowned. _"Why can't you just be happy for me-instead of mocking me indirectly?"_

_"I'm not mocking you, lethallan; instead, I __am__ very happy for you," _Tamlen said while pulling out something wrapped in cloth, _"Look, I even have a present for you."_

_"Really?"_I said eagerly like a little child, grabbed the thing from his hands, and unwound the present only to find myself disappointed. He had given me a longsword when he perfectly knew that I couldn't even use one properly! I gave him a sour look on his ever-amused tattooed face. _"You __are__ mocking me."_

I saw again Tamlen's gentle laugh before—

"By the Dread Wolf, _da'len_, your hands are bleeding!"

The Keeper's voice woke me up from my daydream. That was the only time I felt the pain seething out of my palms. I looked down to my hands and saw the crimson fluid oozed out, stained the cloth, and dripped towards my boots. My hands became weary and dropped the Dar'Misaan as soon as I saw the color of blood. Ugh, the stench could already make me faint if weren't for the Keeper's quick magical spell of healing. I also heard Ashalle's shrieked just right outside the entrance of the aravel and Merrill's nosy aura lingering around as I was led to sit on the side of my bed.

"What has gotten into you, _da'len_?" Keeper Marethari asked incredulously after she asked Ashalle to clean up the bloody mess, "You do not want Duncan-"

"Who cares about that shem?" I asked sulkily.

"Give the Grey Warden some respect, _lethallan_!" Merrill suddenly butted in, "He is-"

"Merrill, now is not the time," the Keeper chided. "Besides, you are to warn the others about our impending departure, am I right?"

She's right Merrill, now shut up.

Merrill's exasperated, gaping face was priceless. "_Ma nuvenin_, Keeper. I'll do it," she bowed quickly and left.

The aravel was again filled with silence as Ashalle bound up my wounded hands. My lips were shut but my mind wasn't. Horrid thoughts were running in my head. How could I be so selfish? Here I was, spending the last moments of comfort with my loved ones while my friend was lying down in agony! Voices whispered beside my ears, telling me that I hadn't searched enough. I just couldn't take the word of the shem as it was. I knew that somewhere in those rocks, Tamlen was there—sick, cold, hungry, and all alone.

"Keeper, just give me one more chance..." my voice trailed to a whisper right after Ashalle left the aravel.

I could see the sympathy in the Keeper's eyes. "You can't _da'len_," she whispered cryptically, "It won't be too soon when the corruption creeps to your body and-it even pains me to say the rest of it."

"Give me an hour to go back to the ruins," I begged, "I might have missed something, maybe Tamlen-"

"If he is as sick as you are, then there will be no chance for him to- I, I am sorry _da'len_—but it has been three days ever since you've discovered that mirror. Even if Tamlen still lives, I won't let you do the search. The corruption—"

"If I change to that thing you say, I give you the permission to strike me down," I desperately said, "If it means to save Tamlen's life, I'm ready to sacrifice-"

The Keeper interrupted my notion. "It is enough, Jellizziah," her voice alone could silence me; "My decision is already set. Ducan believes that this is the only way to save you—and I think this is your only chance of survival—even if it means that you'll be torn away from your clan the rest of your days…."

Her voice sounded graver when she reached the final sentence. It was an obvious fact that there was nothing she could do about my sickness—now that the blasted Grey shem destroyed the source of my ordeal and my hope of a cure without being taken away. As the Keeper, it was her duty to recover the things the Dalish had lost, without losing the elves under her wing on the process, of course. I looked into her eyes and saw different shades of sorrow, grief, remorse, regret, name it. Silently, I knew, she was begging for a shred of understanding from me. I knew that the decision was very tough for her (now that the blighted shem was obviously pressuring her). But I couldn't just swallow it, right?

"So," my voice croaked, "I have no say in this?"

"I am very sorry, _da'len_…We have no choice but to accept Duncan's offer," Keeper Marethari said, "This is not out of charity in Duncan's part, however. He is in need of Grey Warden recruits because of…"

I hung my head in silence. Little did I care about the problems of that shem! My only concern was this: Nothing could be made to change the Keeper's mind; and that meant one thing—I would soon take my flight away from this place—the place where I lived, loved, and learned;

I took another glance at the long sword, then at my hand. It would sure leave an ugly scar on my palms; but this gash in my life had left something worse than a simple scar. A scar might disappear overtime but this one, I doubted, would even vanish.

…_Because this wound just killed something inside me._

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><p><em><span>Flight<span>_

The Dalish clan of Sabrae had sung a silent dirge. Two of its young hunters (and probably lovers) had tragically died because of a mysterious illness. Unfortunately, there were no bodies to be mourned at. One was missing, and was feared to be devoured by what evil lurked inside the ruins. But the other one had been found barely alive. The hunter survived, for a moment, but sooner or later, the sickness would devour and turn her into something worse….

It was a sad night for the Dalish, for they had to co-operate with their old enemy—the shemlen, or the quick people. Duncan, a shem who belonged to a legendary order, the Grey Wardens, had proposed a solution so that the tragic hunter would survive. It was a rare opportunity—to be given a place among the ranks of the Grey Wardens, in exchange for the cure. But it had a one, dreadful catch: the hunter would be forced to leave the clan forever. The price was certainly heavy, but the Keeper decided that it would be for the best.

Anyone could be sympathetic with the poor, lone hunter. But they would agree that it was for the hunter's best interest. Yet no one could feel the sense of dread that the hunter had felt when she heard the news—much more when she realized that the other hunter could never be found—except for three people:

_Me, Myself, and I_

I was the unfortunate hunter in that anecdote: The one who had lost loved one; who would venture out of her clan into the dangerous sea of humans for an unknown cure; who was forced to fight for her survival without the clan by her side; who would stand alone in the field of battle—with no one to depend on, but herself.

"_Dareth shiral, da'len_," those were the parting words of the grief-stricken Keeper when she gave me her ring, "May the Creators guide your way."

_How could they guide me if they're all locked up in the first place?_

I nodded silently and walked towards the other people in the clan. It was just like a living funeral: only that the bereft was still looking at me face to face, with her eyes wide open and was still able to walk, talk, and move. But it wouldn't be so soon before long when the messenger of Falon'Din, the friend of the dead, took me away to the land unknown. After surveying the dreadful faces and hearing how the halla mourned for the unfortunate hunter, I made the effort to come willingly to that shem.

My feet were heavier than a pregnant halla. I literally dragged on to my every step, unwilling to accept my destiny. But as soon as the horizon hid the family I had always known, it seemed that everything changed. Funny, I felt nothing. I thought that I would always carry the dread of being taken away but now...I felt that the dread left me.

_Am I dead?_

Keeper Marethari, Hahren Paivel, Master Ilen, Ashalle, Merrill, Maren, Fenarel, Junar, and….Tamlen:Everything all seemed like a passing memory. I didn't know how; I didn't know why; but everything got disconnected from reality…_my_ reality. I felt like a little leaf that was blown away from its beloved tree—the tree that gave its life and meaning—to be carried away by the harsh winds to the place the Creators know where.

At one moment, I thought I would break into pieces but now, I was numb to everything. And strange enough, it...felt good. It felt good to feel nothing about the dread I was experiencing. I laughed to myself, not caring a thing about what was in the mind of that Warden shem. It was their war, after all. I didn't give a damn thing if their race was going to be annihilated because of that Blight. My clan was now on its way to the north, they would be safe there. I was there silently walking alongside with him and I finally made a resolution to myself: _Just get the cure and go. The heck I care if everyone dies in that Blight._

_"_I do not expect you to like me or the Wardens," Duncan whispered to me as we walked to the forest path leading south, "I just want your cooperation-"

"I agreed to join to your merry little band, isn't that a sign of cooperation from me? "

Duncan fell silent with my words. I knew that he realized that I was right. But of course, my "cooperation" would be short-lived. Soon enough, when the chaos of war was starting to brew up, that would be my signal to leave. No one would ever notice a little elf's presence there. It would be just a plus if the Grey Wardens would be killed in that battle—in that way, no one would ever know that I was a Grey Warden because everyone would believe that the group was wiped out at that battle. Oh my, I'm such a genius!

We walked again into the forest pathway in silence. The trees were now quite different from what I used to see in the Brecillian Forest. Perhaps it was a signal that we would be soon arriving Oas-Osh-Oar-aaaah whatever that place was. I didn't care, really. All I wanted was the cure. After this, I would return to the ruins to find Tamlen. When I find him, we would venture out north to follow the clan—back to our safe haven. And perhaps, I would be alive again. Everything would soon come back to normal.

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><p><strong>Elvish Glossary:<strong>

Aneth Ara—my safe place

emma ir abelas (now I am filled with sorrow)  
>souver'inan isala hamin (weary eyes need resting)<br>vhenan him dor'felas (heart has become grey and slow)

Da'len—little child

Eluvian—mirror

Vallaslin—blood writing

Ma nuvenin—as you wish

Dareth shiral, da'len—farewell, little child

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><p><strong>AN:** Prologue's finally done! Whew! This is a (futile) attempt to retell a Mahariel story in Dragon Age Origins. I know that there were a lot better Mahariel stories out there so don't bash me. And I wouldn't venture into this one unless I have an inspiration (or drive) to do so. So, for a little advertising here, my inspiration for making this one is the FF entitled_ "Of Elves and Humans"_ by Merilsell (a good read, I swear, only that it's pretty long).

So, about my story, this one's about my canon PC in DA:O-Jellizziah Mahariel (I know it's an odd name because it's just a pretty mixed up letters from my real name). There isn't much some action here since I am just trying to test out the waters. But about Ziah (her nickname), all I can say about her (for now) is she's a very quiet, brooding, indifferent, reserved Dalish elf. I hope I can portray her better in the story proper...

_And of course, don't forget to review! :)_


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